


Praise the Team

by katedf



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1937766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katedf/pseuds/katedf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all his crankiness, Richard is quick to acknowledge his team’s efforts. He often says “thank you” or “good work.” So when the Commissioner praises him for his crime-solving abilities, Richard shares this praise with the team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Another Killer Caught

Another case solved, and it wasn’t quite lunchtime yet. Nothing like doing a good day’s work in half a day, Richard thought. Of course, there would still be paperwork, but Fidel could handle that. 

He chuckled to himself. Sweet Fidel. A husband and father, and now a sergeant, but still in many ways so innocent. “How could somebody do that to another person?” Fidel had asked. He had trouble comprehending evil. Sometimes Richard wondered if Fidel might benefit from a few months in one of the tougher precincts in London. But then, even with his many years as a big-city detective, Richard had found this to be a particularly grisly murder. 

And then there was Camille. When Fidel had asked that question, she had shrugged her shoulders and said, “Surprisingly easily. People will do anything.” Innocent on one hand, cynic on the other. And worldly-wise Dwayne to round out the team. On paper, this combination of personalities shouldn’t work at all. But as real live humans, they did. 

“Bloody brilliant,” Richard said to himself.

“Who?” asked Camille. “The killer?”

“No.” He saw her raised eyebrows, but declined to answer further. “Nothing, just… nothing.”

Dwayne secured the prisoner in the back of the Land Rover and Camille started the engine. She and Richard rode in silence for a while, but Camille couldn’t be quiet for long.

“Have you called the Commissioner? Arranged for transport? Do we need to make special arrangements for—”

“Pas devant la captif, Camille!” said Richard.

Camille started to giggle. The giggles grew into full-blown laughter.

“What?” he hissed.

“Richard, the man grew up on Saint Marie. He almost certainly knows French, so if you were trying to stop me talking in front of him, you might have gone with something else.”

“Like what?”

French was her first language, English her second. She could swear in a number of languages, but that might not be something to mention now. What else? Italian!

“Silenzio! That would work. And—wait a minute! You spoke French! Sort of, anyway, you should have used _le,_ not _la._ But where did you learn that?”

_“Pas devant les domestiques.”_

“Not in front of the servants? You grew up with servants?”

“No. It’s an expression, a staple of drawing-room comedies and the like. If a conversation gets too personal or touches on matters that the staff shouldn’t know, one of the older family members, usually the matriarch, will say _‘Pas devant les domestiques.’_ It’s a sort of snobbish thing to say because it assumes that none of the staff can speak French. And it shows how the upstairs people think the downstairs people have less education. Of course, in the period where this is often used, such as Edwardian, it would be true…”

He rattled on and on about ancient English social conventions while Camille bit her lip to stop from laughing again. She looked in the rear-view mirror to check on the prisoner. She wondered if listening to Richard lecture could be considered a form of torture.

The paperwork was completed, the evidence inventoried, and the prisoner handed over for transport to Guadeloupe. 

“Creepy,” said Dwayne. “He never said he did it, never denied it. And his eyes, they were dead. Kind of like—”

Richard held up his hand and said, “Please! No voodoo references, no zombies.”

“But, Chief, I wasn’t—”

“All right, Dwayne, sorry. I for one would like to forget about this guy.” Richard looked at his watch. “I think it’s time to quit for the day. How about a drink?”

So they adjourned to their alternate office, La Kaz. 

When Catherine saw Richard, she said, “I’ll put the kettle on.”

“No thanks, don’t bother. I’ll have a beer.” Camille gave him an astonished look and he said, “We’re celebrating the end of a case, aren’t we?”

So they drank their beers and laughed about inconsequential things. Camille told Fidel and Dwayne about Richard’s attempt at French.

“But he said _la captif_ instead of _le._ French nouns have gender, Richard.”

“They would,” he grumbled. “Is everything French about sex?”

“Wellll,” Camille drawled, “Maybe not EVERYTHING.” 

“Just the things that count!” said Dwayne, and they all laughed. Richard met Camille’s gaze for less than a second and had to look away. He wished he could figure out what to do. What was that look? Flirting seemed to be a way of life for her. Challenging him, ditto. 

Suddenly, a large figure loomed over the group. They scrambled to their feet.

“Sir! We were just—”

“We thought we should—”

“Prisoner has been handed off and—”

The Commissioner held up a large hand and they fell silent. “Inspector, if I might have a word?”

Richard followed his boss out into the street. _Bother! It’s only an hour early. Why did he have to come here today of all days? Oh well, it was my decision, so own up to it._

“I’m sorry sir. The team worked hard on this one, so I thought a little time away from the station would be good for us. As a team. Bonding outside of work, if you will.”

“Absolutely! Always good to see a leader mingle with his team. It builds loyalty. Very good.”

Richard relaxed. _Not getting the sack, then._

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“It’s what I can, or rather, cannot, do for you. I want you to know that your exceptional clearance rate has not gone unnoticed. I would put you forward for DCI, but as you head a small team, you’re not likely to get it. But a letter about your successes will be put into your file. The Honoré team has improved dramatically since you were assigned here. I want you to get credit for your good work.”

“Sir, that’s very kind of you, but you should be aware… ” No, this wasn’t the place to say it. “Sir, would you please repeat this for the team to hear?”

The Commissioner thought this odd, but agreed.

“Sit! Sit,” said the commissioner when they returned and the others began to rise. The team had been discussing their concerns that Richard was in trouble for their early quitting time, especially since they’d used that time to go to a bar. Dwayne looked apprehensive. Fidel looked heartbroken. Camille stared at her beer, afraid to look up at Richard.

“I came here to congratulate Inspector Poole on his good work in leading his team, and to tell him that his ability to solve difficult cases has been recognized. I think it’s important to give good officers credit where credit is due. You should be proud to be on his team.”

As the commissioner spoke, Camille looked at Richard. She expected him to squirm in the spotlight like this, but he looked perfectly calm. 

“Thank you, sir,” said Richard. “I believe in giving people credit, too, which is why I wanted you here when I say this. As nice as it is to be told I have solved difficult cases, I haven’t. WE have. This team. We don’t have a lot of the high-tech equipment and data bases I had access to in London. That was a difficult adjustment for me. But we make up for it in hard work and brain power. 

“We are four very different people and somehow we add up to a complete package. Nobody I’ve ever known is as dedicated and hardworking as Fidel. He will spend hours sorting out fingerprints, searching through records, whatever is needed. Dwayne knows just about everyone on the island. I don’t think there’s a copper in all of London who has as many contacts for information as he has. Camille is smart and incredibly intuitive. She can read people, especially sensing when they’re lying. We often look at suspects and evidence differently, but that’s good because it gives us multiple approaches to solving the case. I just take the pieces of evidence we find and push them around until they make a picture. Like solving a jigsaw puzzle.”

“First the corners, then the edges, then the middle,” said Camille so softly that the Commissioner didn’t hear her. Richard did, and he glanced down at her. They exchanged fleeting smiles that nobody noticed, except Catherine, who had been standing to the side watching her daughter throughout Richard’s speech. 

Suddenly embarrassed at his long speech, Richard didn’t know what to do—where to look, should he sit, should he remain standing. He picked up his beer, eager for something to wet his suddenly dry mouth, and realized what he should do.

“Will you join us, sir?” he asked.

“No, I haven’t time,” said the Commissioner. “But thank you. Carry on, enjoy.”

The Commissioner left and Richard sank into his chair, suddenly self-conscious. He said “thank you” and “good work” to the team all the time, but he had never made a speech like that in his entire career. But then, he’d never had a team like this before. Never felt so much a part of a team before.

Catherine broke the awkward silence by delivering another round. As she passed Richard, she gave his shoulder a tiny squeeze. A thank-you from a proud mother. Then she said, “Drinks are on the Commissioner. But he said to cut you off after this round so you don’t drive home under the influence.”

“Wow,” said Fidel softly.

“Damn, we must be good, if the commissioner is buying!” said Dwayne, holding up his beer. “Here’s to you, Chief!”

“No,” said Richard, clinking his beer against Dwayne. “Here’s to the team.”

“To the team!”

“To us,” said Camille. She caught Richard’s eye for a second, and his heart lurched. She meant the team, of course. But for a moment he let himself pretend she meant something else.

Fidel went home and Dwayne went off in search of friends for liming. As Richard and Camille rose from their chairs, Catherine walked over to them.

“Will you stay for dinner?”

“No, Maman. I’ll drive Richard home, and then have something when I get home.”

“Just wait a minute and I’ll pack something for you.”

As they waited for Catherine to bring out Camille’s dinner, Richard said, “You don’t have to drive me home.”

“What, and have you arrested for walking under the influence?”

“Who is going to arrest me for that?”

Camille giggled, “I might. So you better let me drive you.”

“Then you’ll be driving under the influence, which is worse.”

“And would you arrest me?”

Images of Camille and handcuffs flitted through his brain. Fighting back those thoughts, Richard said, “No. I arrested you once. That was trouble enough.”

“Then we’ll be fine.”

Catherine came out with two packages. She handed one to Camille and one to Richard.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he said.

“After the lovely things you said this evening, yes I do. And don’t worry. No eyes!”

Catherine hugged her daughter “Bon soir, ma chère.”


	2. Richard's Reward

When they got to Richard’s house, Camille turned off the engine.

“Thank you for what you said this evening. I’ve never had a boss do something like that before. A lot of DIs would simply have accepted credit for the success.”

“I’ve worked with people like that. I hope I never advance my career by taking advantage of the hard work of others.”

“You’re a good man, Richard. And you deserve a reward.”

Richard had to remind his heart to keep beating. “And that would be?”

“I’ll fix your television.”

Damn. NOT the first thing that came to mind. But at least he hadn’t had to chase her along the beach to get his TV channels back.

“Thank you, I would appreciate that. Why don’t you bring in your supper and we can eat while we enjoy some good British programming.”

Richard clicked through the few channels that the limited satellite package provided. News, chat show, news, and then a favorite!

“Oh, science fiction. Very good, this. They have to deal with anomalies. I remember a plotline about mastodons. No really, it’s good, I’m just not explaining it well.”

Camille didn’t pay a lot of attention to the program. She ate her supper and watched Richard enjoy the story. He kept pointing out actors and saying what other programs they’d been in. She found his enthusiasm touching. She’d never really grasped how alien Saint Marie was for him. She felt guilty about changing his television. For him, English television was a piece of home when he was so far away from everything familiar. Could she do as well in England, if she were suddenly transplanted? Would she be willing to try?

When the program ended, Richard turned off the television and sighed contentedly.

“Thank you. I’ve missed this.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I should have understood. Changing it was funny, but I should have put it back right away.”

“It’s all right. Just please don’t change it again.”

“I won’t.” She paused and added, “I don’t want to deprive you of a chance to ogle that woman.”

“Dammit, Camille, I don’t—what woman?”

“Fiona something. You must remember her, you were drooling all over the remote that day.” 

“Fiona Bruce?”

“I guess. I don’t remember the last name.” Camille shrugged, trying to look as if she didn’t care. But she was lying. She’d Googled the woman first chance she got. Was that Richard’s type? 

“That wasn’t about Fiona Bruce. It was Roadshow, for pity’s sake!” Seeing Camille’s look of doubt, he went on. “It’s a show about antiques. People bring in objects and experts value them. It’s a classic. And it’s IN ENGLISH! I wasn’t ogling the presenter.”

“That isn’t what it looked like to me. And you definitely were ogling that insurance woman.”

“I wasn’t! It isn’t my fault she was flaunting her—”

“Don’t!” Camille held up her hand. 

“What? Her FIGURE, I was going to say that she was flaunting her figure.”

“And it worked. You were distracted. If that bikini top had been any smaller I’d have had to arrest her for indecent exposure.”

“All right! I’m human and I’m male. Men notice attractive women. I’m sorry if that offends you, but it’s just how it is. Be fair, Camille, I’ve seen you flirt. You know when men notice you.”

“Well, SHE noticed YOU noticing HER. And you WERE ogling!” Camille stalked out to the veranda and leaned on the railing. Softly, she added, “But you never ogle me.”

Richard had started to follow her. That last comment was probably not meant for his ears, but he did hear and it stopped him in his tracks. So this wasn’t feminist outrage over male behavior? It was more personal? Like… what? Hurt feelings? Jealousy?

“Camille.”

Silence.

He sighed. “Camille, I’m not allowed to ogle you. We work together. It’s against the rules.”

“What rule? There’s a rule about ogling?”

“I believe it comes under the general heading of sexual harassment.” 

She turned to face him. “And you think I would bring a charge like that against you?”

“No. I—no. Conduct unbecoming, then. Look, I’ve seen workplace relationships derail a career. And fair or not, it’s usually the more junior officer who suffers the most. I can’t risk that happening to you, Camille.”

“Aren’t we worth the risk, Richard?”

She took a step toward him. He held his breath, trying to find the right way to answer her. She had said “we,” as if she already saw them as a couple. Did she? More to the point, did he? 

“But it’s such a huge risk. More for you than for me. The worst that could happen to me is being sent back to England. But the commissioner is unlikely to do that. He’s much too happy with his captive genius detective. But you don’t have that protection, and I can’t protect you. Suppose you were transferred to another island. We’d rarely see each other. You wouldn’t be near your mum or your friends. Or worse, suppose you were sent into another undercover assignment. Then we wouldn’t even have weekends. And I’d be a wreck worrying about you.”

Camille replayed bits of that last speech in her mind. _The worst that could happen to me is being sent back to England._ He used to want that more than anything. _And I’d be a wreck worrying about you._ He hadn’t actually said it. Maybe it would take a long time. Maybe he’d never say it. But it was there. And she loved him every bit as much. But she was less afraid, so it would have to be her move now. 

She closed the distance between them and took his hands in hers. “I would do almost anything for you, Richard, but I can’t walk away from us. We can figure this out. You’re a genius detective. I’m smart and intuitive, you said so yourself. And we’ve got a secret weapon.”

Richard wrapped his hands around hers and held them over his heart. “What secret weapon is that? So help me, if you say voodoo… ”

She smiled. He had been right when he said that she was good at reading people. Most people, anyway. Not him. But suddenly she could read him better than she read anyone. He was joking because he was nervous. All right, then, lighten the moment.

“No, not voodoo. If I’d used voodoo, we wouldn’t still be standing here talking.” He opened his mouth to speak, so she slipped her hand from his grasp and raised it to his lips. “Shh. Our secret weapon is better. It’s the best there is. It’s love.”

He kissed her fingertips and said, “Omnia vincit amor?”

“Oooh, Latin!” She slipped her arms around his neck.

“I thought I’d try a different language, since you made fun of my French.” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I’ll give you French lessons,” she said, tilting her head up to his.

“Later.” He bent his head and kissed her. 

The kisses became more passionate, and they stumbled into the house. When they broke for air, she loosened and removed his tie and started to unbutton his shirt. He unbuttoned hers. They kissed again and clothing started to fall on the floor. They fell onto the bed, and suddenly Richard went absolutely still.

“Richard! What is it?”

“We can’t.”

“What?”

He sat on the side of the bed with his head in his hands. “We can’t. I don’t have—I’m not prepared. Oh, God, how can you want a man who’s such a disaster as a lover?”

“You don’t have—oh.” She scrambled across the bed and kissed his cheek. “It’s all right. I do. Don’t ask, I’ll tell you the story later. For now, just be grateful to my sex education teacher.” 

She found her purse, but before she could open the little zippered pocket inside, she found what she was looking for. Several of them, in fact. Where had they come from? Then she remembered the odd way Catherine had hugged her. Well, she thought, nice to know we have Maman’s blessing.


	3. The Morning After the Night Before

The next morning, Richard woke around dawn as he always did. He’d had the best night’s sleep since he arrived in Saint Marie. He noticed his lack of pajamas and chuckled. Maybe Camille was right, and sleeping naked was the answer. He turned to say this to her, but she wasn’t there. He could see that the bathroom was empty, and he didn’t hear her moving around in his kitchen. 

Feeling hurt, Richard tried to rationalize her departure. She would have to change into a new outfit for work. Nothing gives away what you’ve done the night before than showing up at work in yesterday’s clothes. And she’d want her own soap and the lotions and potions that women need. Maybe she left a note? Before he could look for a note, he noticed that her clothes were still where she—or perhaps he—had tossed them last night. Where could she have gone without her clothes? And then he saw her.

Camille sat on the beach, facing the ocean. She appeared to be wearing his shirt. A morning-after cliché, perhaps, but he found it endearing. What was supposed to go with that cliché, he wondered. A rose and a perfectly brewed cup of tea, delivered to her out on the beach. No, not tea. For her, it would be coffee. He sighed. No roses in the garden, no coffee in the kitchen. He truly was a disaster at romance.

Camille stared at the ocean. Last night, Richard had said he was a disaster as a lover. But she had evidence to the contrary. Passionate, tender, generous, demanding, he was anything but a disaster. The sound of the waves, the warmth of the first rays of sunlight on her back, and memories of a wonderful night put her into a kind of Zen-nirvana-blissful state. It was a perfect morning. Almost perfect. Just one more thing and… as if by magic—or voodoo?—he approached.

Without turning around, Camille said, “Good morning.”

“How—”

She pointed, “Your shadow. And you call yourself a detective!”

“Actually, I was looking for a detective. It seems a beautiful woman has stolen my shirt.”

“Do you want it back?” She reached for one of the buttons.

“Eventually.”

“Stole your tie, too,” she said, holding it up for him to see.

“Why?”

“I thought I’d try it on. But I don’t know how to tie it.”

“Let me.” He knelt behind her and tied the tie around her neck, not around the open shirt collar. He avoided the obvious next move for his hands and rested them on her shoulders instead. He pushed the shirt aside enough to nuzzle the top of her shoulder.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” Camille said softly. She turned to look at him and realized that he had a line of sight down the open top buttons of the shirt. “Hey, you’re ogling.”

“Guilty.” He shifted position so that he was sitting next to her, but facing toward her. He looked her up and down and smiled, “As you know, I usually don’t ogle.”

“Ha!”

“But I have had to force myself NOT to ogle you for so long that I need to make up for lost time.” He kissed her. 

One kiss led to another, and Camille said, “Wild sex in the surf?”

“No, too—”

“Unhygienic, I know.”

“And scratchy and sandy.” He kissed her softly and said, “Now tell me how you came to be so well prepared last night. And do not tell me it’s Girl Guides training, because I’m fairly sure that isn’t in the manual.”

“Actually, it’s two stories. And be glad I was so prepared because I still am. There’s at least one left, shame to waste it. And then I’ll have to sneak home and change for work.”

“Sneak? Are you ashamed of—”

“No! God, no. Bad choice of words. But you were right. It is a risk, and neighbors gossip. I want to keep us a secret as long as we can.”

A while later, she kissed him goodbye and drove home. He gathered up his scattered clothes and noticed that his shirt smelled of her perfume. He hung it in the closet instead of tossing it into the laundry. _Just in case she comes to her senses,_ he thought, _I’ll have this for a memory._

-o-o-o-o-

Nobody seemed to be around the neighborhood when Camille got home. She noticed a small vase of flowers and a bakery bag on her kitchen table. The bag contained a croissant and a chocolatine. Croissant for a normal morning. Chocolate and flowers in case she needed comfort. She picked up the note.

> Darling,  
>  When I got here, you weren’t home so I hope that’s a good sign. I’m going back to bed, but I probably won’t sleep. Call me!  
>  Love,  
>  Maman 

Camille showered and agonized over what to wear. One outfit was too sexy. One was too demure. Never mind that he’d seen both. She wanted to look right this morning. Did he have a favorite color? Shouldn’t she know that?

“Aaaayyy!” she shouted at the mirror. “Camille Bordey, you are NOT sixteen. It doesn’t matter what you wear. He’s way past looking at the packaging.”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard looked at the contents of his closet. Why did everything he owned look so drab this morning? He had an urge to go to the street market and buy the brightest shirt he could find. Well, no, not a shirt. But a tie. Maybe a bright tie. _Oh, brilliant,_ he thought. _If I suddenly show up in something island-y, I might as well be wearing a t-shirt that says “I got lucky last night.”_

-o-o-o-o-

Camille let herself into her mother’s apartment over the bar.

“Maman?” she called softly.

“Darling! I’m awake.” Catherine came out of her bedroom tying the sash of her silk robe. “How are you? What did you have for breakfast?”

“The croissant.” Camille smiled at her mother’s satisfied nod. “I’m fine. Happy. A little nervous. You know, how will it be at work. Will it be weird, will anyone be able to tell, that sort of thing. Because we work together, we could get in trouble for this. So you can’t tell anyone, or treat either of us any differently. Please, please, don’t give us away.”

“I won’t.”

“Maman, how did you know?”

“How did I know what?”

“That we would, um… Merde! It was easier to talk to you about this when I was fifteen.”

“That’s because you hadn’t done anything yet, and it was just theoretical. I didn’t KNOW that you would go to bed with Richard last night. But I had a feeling. When he made that speech, everyone was looking at him. But I was looking at you. I could see it. You love him.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Camille, he wouldn’t be my choice for you. He’s so English! Stuffy, serious, with his suits and ties, and always wanting tea. But somehow I think you bring out the best in each other. If he makes you happy, that’s the most important thing. But if he hurts you, remember that I have friends in the Voodoo community.”

“Maman! Don’t joke about that. But what about last night?”

“You seemed to be on the cusp of something, so I thought a little encouragement would be in order. Dinner for two, food he would like. Two packages so it wouldn’t look as if I was nudging. But, you know, it would be so simple to eat together. And then, just in case,” Catherine shrugged and smiled. 

“I do always carry one, Maman.”

“That’s good. But I suspected there was a lot of passion bottled up in the two of you, so I gave you extras.”

Camille put her hands over her face. Catherine laughed and gave her daughter a hug.

“Just be happy, ma chère. Make each other happy.”


	4. Stories

“Morning, Fidel. Morning, Dwayne.” Richard walked into the station. He noticed that Camille hadn’t arrived yet. That was good. It gave him time to settle in and feel normal. Whatever “normal” was after last night.

“Morning, Chief,” whispered Fidel, pointing to Dwayne, who had one of his cold-packs on his head. Richard nodded, sat at his desk, and turned on his computer. 

A few minutes later, the phone rang and Fidel answered. He took a few notes and hung up.

“Body on a beach, Chief.” He wrote out the information and handed it to Richard. 

“Right. You two secure the scene. As soon as Camille gets here we'll follow you.”

Fidel and Dwayne roared away and Richard waited for Camille on the porch. He was surprised to see her approach from the center of town instead of from the direction of her house.

“Good morning, sir,” she said in her best Detective Sergeant voice. “Sorry I’m late. I went to see Maman.”

Seeing the stricken look on Richard’s face she added softly, “Tell you later.”

“You can tell me in the car. We’ve got a body. Dwayne and Fidel have left already.” He handed her the slip of paper.

“I know the place. I’ll drive.” When Richard walked to the driver side, she hissed, “The DI doesn’t open the door for the DS.”

_“Merde!”_ Richard said softly and walked to the passenger side.

Camille started the car and pulled into traffic, what little there was so early in the morning. 

“Did you actually say _merde_?”

“Sorry, was I supposed to use an article?”

“It’s going to take me a long time to teach you to speak French properly.”

“A long time sounds good to me.” He reached over and briefly placed his hand on hers where it rested on the gearshift. She inhaled sharply.

“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to crowd you. It’s just, I don’t know, so new.”

“I know. Getting a new case will help. Something to focus on.”

“Right. How far away is this beach?”

“Not too far. Twenty minutes, maybe.”

“Then tell me one of the stories. If I recall correctly, there were two last night, and I suppose I want to know what you and your mother talked about?”

“Which do you want to hear first?”

“Not the one about your mother.”

Oh. Actually, they’re all about my mother.”

“Wonderful.” Richard picked up the cold bottle of water he’d remembered to take and held it to his forehead.”

“All right. Chronological order. When I was fifteen, a girl in my school got pregnant. She was only fourteen. Sex education in a Catholic school was simple. Don’t think about it, don’t do it. Very simple. But not much help to hormone-ravaged teenagers.”

“They were nuns, right? They have to say that. But you said something about a sex education teacher.”

“Maman. When Antoinette got pregnant, Maman sat me down and we had a long talk. At the end, she handed me a pack of condoms. She told me that it was NOT a license to be promiscuous, and she really hoped I’d wait until I was much older. But if temptation got the better of me, I shouldn’t count on the boy to be prepared. Take care of yourself, she told me. Always have one in your purse. Put it somewhere discrete, but always have one.”

“And you always do?”

She nodded. “Yes. Having it with me means I have my mother’s advice with me, too. She always said husband first, baby later. She and my father were very young, and it didn’t last. When they broke up, it was difficult for Maman to provide for both of us. She never regretted having me, but she wanted me to have an easier life.

“So you always carry one, but last night you had, um, I think I lost count.”

“That’s the second story. It’s shorter, but it will have to wait. This is the beach.”

They spent the morning at the scene. Richard and Camille talked to the people who found the body. Fidel emailed photos to the medical examiner and waited for instructions on handling and processing the body. Then he and Dwayne searched the beach for anything that would help them identify the victim. 

“Nobody here or at the shop across the street knew him,” said Richard. “So for now we will assume he isn’t local. Let’s check the hotels. Just work your way along the road. We’ll head toward town. Fidel, as soon as the body is collected, you and Dwayne head out the other way.”

“Yes, Chief.”

-o-o-o-o-

Camille and Richard had been to four hotels and still hadn’t found anyone who could identify the victim. The fifth hotel was an American chain, and Richard suggested they have lunch there. It was toward the end of the lunch time, and they were the only patrons on the shaded patio.

“They probably have food without eyes,” he said. 

After he ordered a burger, Camille said, “I don’t want to put you off your food, Richard, but you do know that the cow had eyes, right?”

“That’s fine. As long as they aren’t on my plate, it doesn’t bother me. Now, tell me the second story from last night. Maman again?”

“Yes. She explained when I saw her this morning. She said she had a feeling about us. Don’t look at me like that, not some Voodoo thing. She said she watched me watching you yesterday. She’s my mother, she could tell.”

They sat in silence for a minute. Then Richard asked, “She could tell what?”

Camille stopped fidgeting with the straw in her glass of water and looked at him. “That I’m in love with you.” She looked down and added, “I never came right out and said it last night, did I? Don’t feel that you have to say anything.”

Richard reached across the table and touched her hand. “Camille? Look at me. I do love you. I never knew it was possible to love anyone this much.”

She sighed. Then a wicked smile appeared. “We are at a hotel, you now. We could change the order to room service.”

“You’re incorrigible! We’re on duty. Don’t tell me you restocked your supply already! Which takes us back to the story. How did you manage to be so _very_ prepared?” 

She smirked. He groaned. 

“Your mother? Oh, good Lord.”

Is everything all right, sir?” asked the waiter, when he saw Richard rubbing his temples. The waiter set down Richard’s burger and Camille’s crab salad.

At the sight of the burger, Richard smiled and said, “Yes, everything is fine, thank you.”

Richard sighed, “Come on, then. Finish the story.”

“She sent us home with food, thinking it might occur to one of us to suggest we eat together.”

“Did she put something in my food?”

“No oysters, mon cher, you did that all on your own,” Camille purred.

Richard turned scarlet. “That isn’t what I meant! I meant a voodoo love potion or something.”

“No! Proximity, time, and relaxation were all that we needed.”

“And the supplies?”

“Maman hugged me just before we left. There was something odd about the way she hugged me with only one arm, and now I realize that’s when she slipped them into my purse. I almost dropped my purse getting into the car with the food, remember? Can you imagine if I had? And they’d spilled out on the street or in the car? I wonder which of us would have been more embarrassed?”

“Almost certainly me. What did you think when you found them?”

“That it was a sign. That Maman was encouraging us, giving us her blessing. I was a little worried that you might wonder about me being so prepared, but it seemed too odd to be talking about my mother just as we were about to make love for the first time.”

“More than a little off-putting.”

Richard’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID.

“Yes, Fidel?”

pause

“Excellent. Where are you?”

pause

“Right. We’re just finishing lunch, so we’ll see you in about ten minutes.”

“Do they have an ID?” asked Camille.

“No, but a first name and a rough idea of where he was staying.”

They found the barbecue shack easily, and Dwayne introduced them to the owner, who was—no surprise—a friend of his. The owner said the victim’s first name was Bill and he was staying in one of the small guesthouses nearby.

“I hope you don’t mind that we stopped for lunch, Chief,” said Fidel.

“Of course not. You’re entitled to have lunch. We did. And you got an excellent lead. That’s the amazing thing about this job. You never know where the next hint or clue or lead—or blessing,” he glanced at Camille, “will come from.”

They soon found the guesthouse where the victim was staying. His passport said he was William Evans, from the UK. Richard took the passport and return plane ticket so that they could locate an emergency contact. He and Camille returned to the station, leaving the other officers to finish searching the room.

By the time they got back to the station, they had a message from the medical examiner saying that the cause of death was accidental drowning, no sign of foul play.

Richard looked at the telephone on his desk and said, “I hate this part.”

“Do you want me to make the call?”

“Thank you, Camille, but it’s my responsibility. His sister is English. It might be more comforting to get the news in a familiar accent.”

“That beach has some bad rip currents at times. Remember to tell her that.”

“Thanks, I will.”

Richard made the call, offering condolences and briefly explaining procedures. When he finished, Camille fetched a bottle of cold water for him and said “Very nice.”

“Thank you.” He stretched and yawned. “I’m tired.”

“It’s been a long day. We solved a whole case in just one day.”

“And I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“You need to go to bed earlier.”

“Is that advice or an invitation?”

“What do you think?” asked Camille, as she sat on his desk and crossed her legs, allowing her skirt to ride up and show some thigh.

“Sergeant Bordey, are you trying to seduce me?”

Camille giggled, “Richard, that is the worst Dustin Hoffman impression I’ve ever heard.” She stood up when she heard Dwayne’s voice. 

Looking toward the door, Richard whispered, “Tonight?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“We’re back, Chief.”

“Good. And once again, team, I have to say. Well done! Time to go home.” 

“Do you want a ride home?” asked Camille.

“No, I’ll walk. A little exercise will do me good. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay, see you,” said Camille. She turned to pick up her purse and noticed Dwayne looking at her curiously. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. You have a nice night.” He winked at her and went back to shutting down his computer.


	5. Another Dinner à Deux

Camille left the station and walked to her mother’s bar. It wasn’t busy yet, so they had time to talk.

“Camille!” Catherine kissed her daughter. “How was work today?”

“Normal. We had a case, a drowning. We solved it.”

“Of course you did! Are you taking dinner home?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. We had lunch at the new Marriott Resort.”

“Why there? Oh, I know. He chose it because it’s American and they have food he might like.”

Camille laughed and nodded. “It was nice. We were the only ones on the patio and, even though we were working, it was like a date.”

“A date? What about the boys?”

“Oh, no. They weren’t with us. It was just Richard and me.”

Catherine allowed her daughter to stare off into space for a minute. Then she whispered, “If you want to keep this quiet, you’ll have to stop doing that.”

“Hmm? Doing what?”

“Looking all dreamy-eyed.”

-o-o-o-o-

For once, Richard enjoyed walking home. The path was shaded by palm trees, so he wasn’t bothered by the heat. For possibly the first time, he noticed how many flowers there were, how many different bird calls he could hear. When he emerged from the path at his house, he stopped to admire the glinting of the sun on the water. Saint Marie was still hot as blazes, but it wasn’t the hell he’d first thought it was. 

“Oh, good Lord, Poole,” he muttered to himself. “Flowers, birds—you’re a bloody walking cliché!”

He unpacked the shopping, and placed the bag of ice in the kitchen sink. The lizard stood at the top of the steps, watching him.

“Oh, hello. You wouldn’t know where there’s an ice bucket, would you? No, of course not. You’re not very helpful, you know.” Richard looked through the cabinets and found a large bowl. He dumped in some of the ice and wedged the bottle of wine he’d bought into the ice. 

His phone rang and he ran up the stairs to answer it. The lizard, used to his sudden movements, got out of the way. It ran up onto the desk and watched Richard search through jacket pockets. He grabbed the phone and looked at the caller ID. He had missed a call from Camille.

Richard stared at the phone. Had she called to cancel? Would the best love affair of his life last less than twenty-four hours? 

“Don’t be an idiot! She propositioned you twice today, three times counting the beach this morning. That has to mean something.” The lizard cocked its head. Richard waved a hand at it and said, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Camille answered the phone right away. 

_“Richard!”_

“Camille, sorry I missed your call.”

_“What would you like for supper?”_

“I had thought to make us a soufflé, but given my culinary skills, it will probably turn out to be an omelet.”

_“An omelet sounds good. I’ll be there soon.”_

-o-o-o-o-

Camille entered the house through the kitchen.

“Richard?”

“Out here.”

Camille trotted up the stairs and walked to the veranda. She couldn’t believe what she saw. Richard had moved the large wicker armchair onto the veranda. He had removed his jacket and tie, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. His feet rested on the lower rung of the veranda railing. And, most surprising of all, he was barefoot!

“Excuse me, sir. May I see some identification?”

He laughed and said, “I left my wallet in my suit jacket. You’ll have to take my word that it’s me.”

“Richard, I think it’s sweet of you to try to loosen up. But I know that going barefoot makes you uncomfortable. You don’t need to do this to please me.”

He held out his arms, and she sat in his lap. She reached up to stroke his cheek and they kissed. Taking advantage of the lack of a tie, she nuzzled his neck. Then she sighed and pulled away.

“Richard, I do like this look. But I don’t want you trying to change yourself into what you think I want. I love YOU and I want YOU. As you are. Maddeningly English, though you may be. Trying to change to please someone isn’t good. It puts a strain on the relationship.”

“I know. But people do change as the result of a relationship.”

“Yes, they do. But it has to happen naturally. I won’t make a list of things you should change and I don’t intend to reinvent myself, either. Don’t work at it so hard, Richard. In case you didn’t notice, I’m here.”

Richard drew her close and held on tightly. “I know, and I’m still amazed. You’ve been driving me crazy for so long, I thought I’d finally snapped and imagined last night.”

“Mmmm, you have an excellent imagination, Richard.”

“And you, my beautiful, sexy Camille, are my imagination’s muse. I have some wine chilling, and the makings of supper are in the kitchen. Or, if there’s something else you want to do?”

She slid off his lap and crooked her finger. She backed into the house, slowly unbuttoning her shirt. He got up to follow her, not taking his eyes off her until he stumbled on the step into the house.

“Ow! Bugger!” he grabbed his foot and hopped over to the bed. “Well, wasn’t that suave. I did tell you last night, I’m not good at this.”

“ _Au contraire._ You’re very good,” said Camille as she unbuttoned his shirt.

“Not THAT. This! This whole seduction thing. Setting the scene, all the trimmings. There should be flowers and soft music. Champagne chilling in a silver ice bucket.” 

“The trimmings don’t matter. All that matters is us.”

When they finally decided they were ready for supper, they dressed—because Richard declared cooking naked to be unhygienic—and went down to the kitchen. Despite the small size of the kitchen, they worked well together. 

As Richard cracked the eggs, Camille said, “French lesson! _Un oeuf._ An egg.”

“Now, you see, that’s why French is a crazy language.”

“I beg your pardon?”

_“Un oeuf._ Why not _une oeuf?_ That would make more sense. The egg is the female cell, so _oeuf_ should be feminine, not masculine.” Richard ranted as he beat the eggs. He turned on the heat under the frying pan. _“Donnes moi le beurre s’il vous plait.”_

“Richard! How much French do you know?”

“Not enough to understand everything you said upstairs just now. Enough to get approximately half of the things you’ve muttered around the station.” He smiled as her eyes widened. 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything about it?”

“I didn’t realize I remembered so much. It came back in bits as I heard it spoken here on Saint Marie. Some was vaguely familiar. Some I truly understood.” He paused and gave her a sly smile. “But I don’t think I’ve ever heard some of the words you use in the, um, heat of the moment.”

They carried their plates and wine out to the veranda. 

They ate in silence for a while, then Camille asked, “If you hate everything French, why did you study the language?”

“First, let me state that I do not hate EVERYTHING French.” Richard held up his glass of wine in a toasting gesture. “I took a few semesters of French at university.”

“Oh, no. Let me guess. You were trying to impress a French girl. An exchange student? You wanted to court her in her own language?”

Richard sighed, “I did say you are intuitive, didn’t I? Yes, she was from France. We dated for a while and then she broke up with me. Not so much as an _au revior_ when she left. Now that I think of it, it makes sense. She had no intention of seeing me again.”

“So that made you hate all things French.”

“Yes, but you’ve cured me. Look, I’m even eating French bread!”

Again, Camille recognized one of Richard’s defense strategies. “Don’t joke about it, Richard. I can see that she hurt you.”

“You were right, earlier, when you said that it isn’t good to try to be someone you’re not. I tried to be what I thought would please her. And in the end, it turned out that someone else pleased her more.”

Camille reached across to squeeze his hand. “Oh, Richard …”

He wrapped his fingers around her hand and sighed. “I told you I’m not good at romance. I don’t know the right things to say… I’m frightened that I’ll screw up. Or we’ll get caught and be fired, or …”

“Shhh, stop worrying. You will screw up. So will I. It happens in any relationship.” She chuckled, “You already have a track record of saying some pretty stupid things at the oddest times. But I’ve learned to see the good intent behind the mis-steps. The more I understand you, the more I love you. And if charm and wooing aren’t your best talents, I’ve discovered that you have others that more than make up for that.”

-o-o-o-o-

Later that night, Richard and Camille reclined on a pile of pillows on the bed, sipping the last of the wine.

“Sorry it wasn’t champagne,” said Richard. “I stopped in to buy some, but then I thought it might be suspicious. They know what I usually buy, so I thought wine would be less obvious. This is so different from the anonymity of London. Everyone here knows everyone else’s business.

“Yes… speaking of that.”

“Speaking of what?”

“Knowing. I think Dwayne knows. At the least, he suspects. When I left the station, he said ‘Have a nice night.’ and then he winked at me.”

“I suppose my ‘See you tomorrow’ was too carefully casual.” He sighed. “So much for keeping us a secret.”

“I swore Maman to secrecy. And Dwayne won’t tell anyone.”

“Camille, he’s a terrible gossip.”

“But he’s also loyal. After your speech in front of the commissioner, the Spanish Inquisition couldn’t get that information out of him. And Fidel, well, he probably hasn’t noticed us yet. But he’d die for you, Richard. He’s proud of his job, and you’re the first DI who noticed how good he is. You got him his sergeant’s stripes. And that visiting DS, you—what’s the expression—took her down a notch, right in front of them.”

“Took her down a peg. Yes I did. It was unprofessional, and as a police officer, I’m not proud of it. But as their friend, I’m glad I did it. She didn’t even bother to try to remember Fidel’s name, and she was condescending with Dwayne. Their tales of her attitude made me think back to when I was first here. I know I wasn’t terribly pleasant, but at least I knew everyone’s name.”

“You were a grumpy old bear,” said Camille, snuggling closer.

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t help. I was so insubordinate. When I think of how I scolded you on that first case!”

Richard took their wine glasses and set them on the bedside table. He wrapped his arms around Camille. “I needed that. I was attracted to you, even then. I may not have ogled you, but the image of you in that bikini was already seared into my memory. My defense was to avoid being pleasant to you.”

“Do you remember, not long after you got here, we had an argument at the station? A real shouting match. I told you to go back to England.”

“I think that happened in more than one argument.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t go.”

“So am I.”


	6. Richard Gets Into Trouble

Several weeks went by without anyone noticing the relationship between Camille and Richard. They fell into an easy pattern of separating work and personal life. They still bickered over cases, especially if a suspect was a pretty woman. She still said he was too quick to defend the damsel in distress. He still said she wanted to lock up all attractive women. But when they were alone, they reveled in just being together. 

There was a quiet spell when the team hadn’t had a new case for over a week. They took turns having days off. Richard had kept a tally of overtime, and since the budget didn’t pay for overtime, he gave days off to pay back the team. The commissioner approved, since it didn’t cost him any money. Team members on these days off had to consider themselves on call. 

Fidel had Thursday off, and Dwayne was out of the station, getting something for lunch. Camille was bored. Richard seemed intent on his computer screen.

“What are you doing?”

“Hmm?”

“Richard! What are you so fascinated with?”

“Nothing, really. Just playing with an idea. Camille, do you know anyone in IT? I mean, the Saint Marie police force must have some tech people hiding somewhere. Probably lounging in an air-conditioned building with delicate master computers.”

“I don’t know. I guess we have an IT person. Or maybe we share with one of the other islands. Dwayne will know. Are you having problems with your computer?”

“Aside from its advanced age, no. It’s working the best it can. I wondered if anyone monitors what we do on our computers. You know, browsing history and the like.”

“They’re standalone PCs. I suppose someone could hack in. But I don’t think they come in here like thieves in the night and check our computers. If you’re worried, just clear your history each night.”

“I do. The computer is set to do it automatically when I shut down. I was just wondering, that’s all.”

Dwayne returned, and Richard announced that he was going for a walk to “clear the cobwebs.” When she was sure that he wouldn’t be back too quickly, Camille went to his desk and looked at his computer.

“What are you doing, Camille?” asked Dwayne. “The Chief won’t like it if you mess with his computer.”

“I’m not messing, I’m looking.”

“He’ll know.”

“No he won’t. Everything will be the way it was. I did undercover, Dwayne, I know how to poke around a computer and not get caught.” Suddenly, her eyes widened and she dropped into Richard’s chair in shock. “What the bloody blue blazes is he up to?”

Dwayne smiled. Did she know how many of Richard’s expressions had crept into her vocabulary? 

“What is it, Camille? You look as angry as a jealous wi—” He stopped himself before he could say “wife.” He wasn’t supposed to know about their relationship. He understood. If he didn’t ask, they wouldn’t tell, and nobody would know anything that the Commissioner would want to know.

“I don’t know. Forget I looked.” She stalked back to her desk, muttering in French. By the time Richard returned, she had her temper under control. 

The afternoon wore on and Camille became increasingly fidgety. At 3 o’clock, she asked for Friday off.

“It’s your turn to take a day, so that’s fine.” said Richard. “Just keep your phone on.”

“I want to take the ferry over to Guadeloupe to do some shopping, so I won’t be on instant call. But I can get back in an hour or two if you call.”

“What can you get on Guadeloupe that you can’t get on Saint Marie?” Richard asked. 

A day away from you, she thought. But she said, “Shoes. I’m in the mood for a new pair of shoes, and there’s a store that I like.”

“Right. Certainly. Because five thousand nine hundred and thirty eight pairs of shoes is definitely insufficient.”

“Buying shoes makes a woman happy.”

“I thought that’s what chocolate is for.”

“That, too. But sometimes, I just want new shoes. Anyway, it’s better than sitting around here waiting for a crime to happen.” Camille started to pace around the room, looking for something that needed attention. The white board was empty. The markers were all neatly lined up in the tray. 

Richard turned his attention back to his computer. Camille went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. She gave it to Richard.

“Peace offering. I’m sorry I’m cranky. I’m just so bored!” While his hands were occupied with the bottle, she walked to stand beside him, where she would have a view of his computer monitor. 

“What?” she shouted, grabbing the mouse so that he couldn’t minimize the window. “What are you doing?”

“It isn’t what it looks like.”

“I don’t know what else it can be.”

“It’s research. When I’ve sorted it out, I’ll explain.”

Camille stormed out of the station. Over her shoulder, she called, “I’m done for the day. Dock my wages if you have to!”

Dwayne looked at Richard and said, “Chief, go after her. I can lock up. You know she’s gone to Catherine. Go after her.”

“I can’t run after her through the streets like Heathcliff calling for Cathy. I have a better idea.” He reached for his phone. 

“Hello, Catherine. Camille is on her way and she’s angry at me.” 

pause

“Why do you assume it’s my fault?” 

pause

“I’m sure you do, but it isn’t. All right, it’s partially my fault. Just please calm her down and keep her there. Tell her I’m not leaving Saint Marie.”

pause

“About ten minutes. Please make sure there are no sharp implements within her reach.” Richard ended the call and sighed. 

“No, Dwayne, it wasn’t porn, and it wasn’t emails to an old girlfriend.” He said. “It was airline schedules. I was thinking about using some of my days to go to London.”

“Ah, that explains why she was so upset. You know her temper, Chief. It was bound to happen at some point. You’re together all the time, couples argue.” He paused and added, “Not that you’re a couple. I don’t know anything. Just GO. I’ll close up.” 

“Thanks, Dwayne. Pray that Marielle is still open.”

Catherine had just put her phone in her pocket when Camille stormed in. 

“Maman!”

“Darling, what’s wrong?”

“I think Richard wants to go back to London.”

“Why would you think that?”

“He was looking at airline schedules and the Met’s website.”

“Ohhh, Camille,” Catherine hugged her daughter. “Maybe he’s thinking about a trip. I don’t think he’d leave Saint Marie permanently. Maybe he wants to take you to London as a surprise.”

“But why was he looking for job openings?”

“He might have been looking for something for you.”

“For me?”

“You assume he’ll want to stay here because of you. But suppose he can’t make the adjustment. Would you be willing to follow him to England?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Ma chère, that kind of devotion has to work both ways. I suggest you think about that. Let me get you a drink. Lots of ice, lots of fruit juice. And just a tiny splash of rum. Now go and sit.”

Catherine made the drink slowly, giving the kettle time to boil. When she delivered her daughter’s drink, she also set down the tea tray.

“Maman, what—”

“Camille?” Richard stood across the table, looking uncomfortable. He held out a small pink bag. “Peace offering?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. You’re upset and it’s my fault.” He sat down and began to fix his tea. Catherine moved off toward the bar where she could see, but not hear, the couple.

“No, it’s my fault. I’m sorry for being such a… there’s an English expression, an animal.”

Richard smiled. “If you think I’m going to supply a noun to end that sentence, you’re mad as a box of frogs.”

“Not frogs. A farm animal. Sheep? Cow?”

“Ah, yes, we do sometimes call a difficult woman a cow. But I wouldn’t call you a cow. Not if I want to live to see another sunrise.”

Camille startled him by changing the subject. “Do you want to go back to London, Richard?”

“I’m thinking about a visit. I have more than a week of accrued days. Just a visit, Camille. You need to buy shoes in Guadeloupe. I need to have a beer in a London pub. And the rest of what you saw, well, I can explain it. But later? Please?”

Camille nodded and looked in the bag. “Oooh, I love Marielle’s truffles. I had a friend in Paris who used to say that chocolate is better than sex.” Camille looked Richard straight in the eyes and added, “But it isn’t.”

“Are you trying to get me to drink my tea in one gulp so that we can get out of here and go home?”

“Take your time, we have all night.” 

Catherine smiled. Camille and Richard had obviously patched things up. She sighed. The way those two smiled at each other, did they really think people wouldn’t see that they were in love?

Dwayne strolled by the bar on his way home. He, too, was relieved to see that the Chief and his DS were no longer arguing.

“Chief! Just on my way home, everything is locked up tight. See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Dwayne,” said Richard. Camille smiled and waved.

“Isn’t that sweet?” asked Camille. “He’s checking up on us. He knows.”

“Darlings,” said Catherine, walking up to the table. “If you two don’t stop gazing at each other like that everyone on Saint Marie will know.”


	7. Explanations

As soon as Camille got out of the car she said, “Here we are. Now tell me what’s going on. This is driving me crazy!”

Richard sighed. “Could we at least get inside before we start this?”

Camille huffed and waited by the door while Richard got out his keys. They were barely in the door when she opened her mouth to speak. He held up his hand.

“Please! I will tell you, but I need a minute to organize my thoughts.”

“Come up with a plausible story, you mean?”

“Oh, come on, Camille! You know me better than that. I have no intention of lying to you. I’m trying to figure something out, not sure if I can make it work. I was waiting to talk to you until I had a plan instead of some random ideas.” 

Richard took two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, opened them, and handed one to Camille. He grabbed a bag of crisps and walked out to the veranda. He tossed the bag onto the small table and took a long drink from his beer. Camille dropped into a chair. Richard leaned against the railing.

“Yes, I was looking at airline schedules. I have accrued quite a few days, so I thought I’d go to London. I haven’t had a holiday since I’ve been here, you know.”

“What about the Met openings page? And your resume?”

“I thought if—wait a minute, my resume was not on the screen when you blindsided me.”

_Merde!_ Camille hated the fact that he could outsmart her like that. 

“I looked,” she said in a small voice. “Earlier, when you went for a walk. Your computer hadn’t gone to sleep yet, and I was curious. The way you were worried about IT knowing what was on your computer made me think you were up to something. I’m sorry. I was curious and I gave in to it. I shouldn’t have. But I had a bad feeling about it.”

“Quite the detective, aren’t we?” It was a snarky thing to say, and Richard hoped Camille would hear the affection in his tone. He sat down across from her, stretched out his leg and nudged her foot.

“So come on, then Madame Detective. Tell me what the evidence was and what you think it means.”

“Why don’t you just come out and tell me?”

“Remember what I told the Commissioner? That we look at evidence differently? So tell me what you think. It honestly will help me to know what you think, Camille.”

“All right. Three things. One, airline schedule for flights to London. Two, the Met website page showing open positions. Three, a copy of your resume. Did I miss anything?”

“There’s a draft of a cover letter, but that file wasn’t open. I assume you didn’t have time to do more than look at the files that I had up on the screen?”

Camille nodded.

“Right, so what do those three pieces of evidence look like?”

“You’re planning to go to London. You’re checking on available jobs so that you can stay there. You’re polishing your resume so that it will get you a job in London, and you can stay there.”

“Very good. That’s what it’s supposed to look like.”

“What do you mean, SUPPOSED to look like? It looks like what it is! You’re going back to London!”

“No, it looks like what I made it look like. We’re not supposed to use work computers for personal messages or web surfing unrelated to cases. I recently saw an article about a large company that routinely checks computers to make sure employees aren’t spending all day playing games or surfing websites of dubious merit. There’s no problem if our computers are checked. The closest we’ve come to personal use was messages to plan a surprise party for Fidel when he got his stripes. Nobody will get sacked for that. But if I sent you love notes, ding! ding! ding! it would set off alarm bells somewhere.”

“Yes, it would. But what does this have to do with London?”

“What if IT notices that I’ve looked at travel to London and the Met’s job site?”

“Personal use like that is technically against the rules, but it’s a minor infraction. Anyway, you said you clear your history every night.”

“I changed my settings. I want some of what I’ve done to linger. I don’t think I’ll be in any trouble over an airline site and the Met site. And I’m not sure if they can get into my resume or the cover letter.”

“So what is the point of all of this?”

“This is where it gets a bit wonky. I haven’t quite worked out what my next step will be. I hope that IT will notice. I hope that someone will tell the Commissioner.”

“And?”

“Don’t you think he’ll jump to—sorry, REACH the same conclusion you did?”

“He won’t like it. He wants you here. I know how he shanghaied you with that 2-hour chance to call for a transfer. He’ll fight this.”

“I hope so. I’m setting up for a bit of a con. It’s a gamble. I think I know how to play it. But it involves you, and I won’t go any further unless you agree.”


	8. A Trip to London

“Ohhh, Camille,” Richard sighed. “I think I’m going to sleep the whole flight.”

“I wanted to make sure you have something to think about while you’re away.”

“Right now I’m thinking that I’ll need the whole week to recover. It’s still early. Go back to sleep. I have to shower and dress.”

Camille dozed lightly, listening to the now-familiar sounds of Richard moving around in the morning. The water running—well, trickling, really. If Richard was able to stay, they should talk to the shack’s owner about some improvements, especially the bathroom. The shower was nearly impossible to use. Or maybe they’d move to her place. If it all worked out, they could go public with their relationship.

She thought about their relationship. They’d talked about Richard being able to stay on Saint Marie. They said _us_ and _we_ a lot, but they only looked at the near future. Camille believed they would consider their future more fully once Richard’s assignment was definite. At least she’d been able to convince her mother to avoid pointed remarks and back off on the hints about grandchildren.

While Richard made tea, Camille got out of bed and put on the oversized t-shirt that had become her morning outfit. She picked up discarded clothing and made the bed. As she reached across the bed to straighten a pillow, Richard paused on the stairs, admiring the view of her bottom. She turned and caught him looking.

“Hey! You’re ogling!”

“Storing up memories for the long week away.” Richard closed the closet door and straightened the pile of books on his desk.

“Don’t fuss. I’ll straighten things and lock up after you go. Have you remembered to pack everything?”

“Yes. Laugh if you will, but a packing list is a good idea.”

“I know. But a few of the desperation purchases I’ve made on holiday have turned out to be useful.”

“Like your souvenir t-shirt?” Richard pointed to the baggy garment Camille was wearing.

“Okay, I bought the wrong size. You of all people should understand the stress of dealing with lost luggage.”

“Never mind. On you it looks sexy. Come to think of it, EVERYTHING looks sexy on you.”

“You keep remembering that, and come back to me.” Camille put her arms around Richard’s neck.

He wrapped his arms around her and said, “I hope I come back with good news.”

“I hope so, too. But if it doesn’t work, I’m willing to move to London.”

“I know. But I’d rather we stay here.”

Their kiss was interrupted by a car horn.

“That’s my car.”

“I know,” Camille sighed. “Be safe. I love you!”

“Love you, too.” Richard kissed her lightly and walked to the door. He turned and smiled, “Missing you already.”

-o-o-o-o-

Camille was at La Kaz, chatting with her mother, when her mobile played “Rule Britannia.” Catherine raised her eyebrows and Camille grinned. 

“Maman, you have to admit, it’s a perfect ringtone for him.”

“Well, then, answer it!” Catherine moved away to serve a customer.

“Richard!” Camille answered the call.

_“Hello, Camille.”_

“How was your flight?”

_“Long. Lonely. I spent most of the time reading. But there is good news. For once, they did NOT lose my case!”_

“Oh good. It means I don’t have to listen to you… what’s the word… sort of like whine?”

_“I do not whine, Camille.”_

“No, that’s not it. Um… whinge! That’s it, isn’t it? You whinge over things.”

_“I most certainly do not whinge.”_

“You’re right. You don’t whinge, you grumble. And I miss that already. So where are you now?”

_“I’m just out of customs and heading for the Tube station. Sticking to the itinerary as planned. Parents, errands, Met appointment. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you!”_

“Love you more!”

_“Not possible. Goodnight, Camille.”_

“Goodnight, Richard.”

When Camille set her mobile back on the bar, Catherine walked over.

“So did they lose his luggage again?”

“No. I hope it’s an omen.”

“Any why does he need an omen?”

“For luck. He has an appointment to talk to the Met.”

“Is he trying to get a transfer?”

“He’s trying to get something definite. Technically, his assignment here is temporary. Two years is a long time for a temporary assignment, so it feels permanent even though it isn’t. He’s got his life in two places and needs to know what’s in his future. 

“And are you in his future, Camille?”

“Yes. I mean, he hasn’t actually proposed, but we talk about us as if we’re going to stay a couple. I think he’s waiting until he knows what he has to offer me.”

“That sounds…” Catherine tried to find the right word.

“Old-fashioned?” suggested Camille.

“Very _Richard,”_ said Catherine. “Always organizing his thoughts and plans.”

“So he has gone to London to try to organize his life. Our life.”

“In London?”

“Our first choice is to stay here, but… I’m sorry, Maman, but if the Met transfers him back to London, I will go with him.”

Camille was surprised when Catherine nodded and smiled.

“You look happy about that, Maman. I thought you’d push for us to stay here.”

“Of course it’s what I’d prefer. But if you’re willing to go to London with him, it means you really do see yourselves as a couple. The two of you being together has to be the most important thing.”

“It is. I’m not going to anything about my job until we know what’s happening with Richard’s job. But you might hear rumors that I’ve been doing some online job hunting. If anyone should ask you…”

“You mean if the Commissioner should ask me?”

“Yes. Just say you don’t know anything, but look like you do. You know, Maman, the ‘I’m your mother and I know everything’ look. I want him to think we’re keeping our options open.”

“He won’t come right out and ask me what you’re up to.”

“No. He’ll be indirect and you’ll be evasive. I can almost hear the two of you in my head.”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard spent his time in London shopping and organizing his life for a permanent move to Saint Marie. The young constable who had sub-let Richard’s flat was pleased by the prospect of leasing it directly for himself. As Richard chatted with the young man, he looked around the flat that had been his home for so many years. There was little in it that seemed personal, and very little that he’d want to take with him. It didn’t feel like home at all. He felt no pangs of regret when he told the constable to keep anything he wanted and left.

Richard spent his time with his parents explaining that his assignment to Saint Marie was likely to become permanent. 

“So you’ll never come back?” his mother asked.

“It isn’t as if I’m going to prison, Mum,” Richard replied. “Certainly, we—um, I—will come back to visit.”

His parents exchanged a look. Richard’s emails had changed lately. A certain name cropped up more and more frequently, so they weren’t entirely surprised by this slip.

“We?” his father asked. “Would this _we_ include Camille?”

“Yes, I hope so.” His father’s question was the perfect opening to explain what was going on. “The problem is that we can’t make any plans because we don’t know where I’m going to be. If I stay on Saint Marie, we have to deal with the issue of us working together. If I return to London, Camille will have to quit her job. We’re hoping that the prospect of losing both of his detectives will, um, motivate, the Commissioner to ignore our relationship and let us keep working together.”

“On Saint Marie.” 

“Yes, Dad. I know I may never advance beyond DI, but that doesn’t matter. You wanted me to be of use in the world. And I suppose locking up criminals is useful wherever I do it. But on Saint Marie, it’s more than that. I feel that I’ve contributed to more than just law and order. I’ve helped to save a rainforest from destruction. Sometimes, I look up at that jungle on the mountainside and imagine what would have happened if it had become a mine. Nobody except my team and one man in prison knows that it was a decision _I_ made that saved it. No award, no thank you. But I look at that mountain and I know that it’s going to be green and lush when I look at it again the next day. That’s all the thanks I need, because I know I’ve taken care of my home. And Saint Marie has become my home.”

“I wish you could see yourself when you talk about Saint Marie,” said Richard’s father. “You never spoke about London that way. You’ve found your home. And I’m proud of you, Son.”

When Richard left his parents’ home, his mother cried. His father handed her a handkerchief and promised her he’d take her to Saint Marie for a visit. Richard thought he’d heard her mumble something about a wedding. Fortunately, his taxi arrived at that moment and he didn’t have to answer that question.

-o-o-o-o-

At the Met’s headquarters, Richard was greeted by one of the Human Resources officers.

“Thank you for seeing me, sir.”

“My pleasure. You said you want to review your current appointment?”

“Yes. I’m trying to decide where I’m going, with both my job and my personal life. I’ve been on temporary assignment in Saint Marie for nearly two years. Frankly, I’m tired of not having a sense of place, and I want a permanent assignment. I’m trying to work out whether it will be on Saint Marine or in London. I have a flat in London, which I’m subletting. My lease is due for renewal. Should I continue to lease and sublet, and plan on a return to London sometime soon? Or should I drop the lease and plan on staying on Saint Marie? Do I leave my bank account here, or move my money to a bank in the Caribbean? Too many practical things in my life have been in limbo, and I want to rectify that situation. I’m wondering what my options are.”

Richard sat back, pleased that he’d stuck to practical issues and made no mention of friends or personal entanglements. If this got back to the Commissioner, it had to be free of hints about Camille. 

“Do you have a preference for where you’re assigned?”

_Saint Marie!_ “I’m not sure. There are advantages either way. London has been my home for a long time. My family are nearby. There is probably more scope for professional advancement here. On the other hand, the pace of life is slower on Saint Marie. The weather can be pleasant. When it isn’t hot as hell. And yes, as others have noted, despite my time in Paradise, I’m pale. I’m probably spending a significant portion of my salary on sunblock. But I like working there. I have an excellent team. We function on a small scale, which increases the burden on each of us. But there isn’t the politics and jockeying for position you often find in a large station. Frankly, I find that quite a relief.”

“Personal commitments?”

“Family here, obviously. I’ve made some friends on Saint Marie. But I tend to be rather self-contained. Personal commitments or lack thereof are not the issue they might be for others,” he lied smoothly.

The personnel officer tapped a folder on his desk. “The Commissioner of Police on Saint Marie will try to fight a transfer. He has high praise for your work. Impressive clearance record. There are several stations in London that could use a good DI. I think the next step is for you to decide if you want to apply for a position in London or request that your assignment to Saint Marie be made permanent.”

“Thank you, sir. I believe I have some serious thinking to do.” Richard stood up and extended his hand. “Thank you very much for your time.”


	9. Home?

“Did I remember to say welcome home?” Camille asked Richard as she snuggled next to him.

“Not in so many words,” Richard replied. “But they say actions speak louder than words, and your actions were definitely welcoming. Although… greeting me at the door naked was a bit of a risk. Suppose the Commissioner had shown up to drive me home?”

Camille giggled, “Oh, no! That would have blown the whole thing open. All this time being careful about us and conniving to get you assigned here and he’d have found out.”

“I don’t think I’d have been able to look the man in the eye ever again. But since he wasn’t here, I can say that I found your greeting _definitely_ welcoming.”

“Good. Now let me fill you in on what’s happened here. I did some job searching. I went to the bookstore in Victoire and asked if they had any books about London. You were right, the Commissioner did ask Maman if she knew anything, and she did her little ‘Of course I know everything’ shrug and said she didn’t know what he meant.”

“Sometimes I wonder if that shrug is a bluff, but I’m pretty sure your mother _does_ know everything that’s going on.”

“I feel bad not telling the boys what we’re up to,” said Camille. “But I think it helped that their concern showed when the Commissioner just happened to stop by last week. He asked if we had heard from you. Dwayne looked curious and Fidel looked worried. I think that made the Commissioner worry.”

“Good. Sounds like he’s primed.”

“You know, if this doesn’t work out, we could move to a different island and start working con games. We’re good at this sneaky stuff. I didn’t know you had it in you, Richard. Should I be worried?”

“Worried about what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. That you’d try to get away with doing something you didn’t want me to know about.”

“What, like cheat? Camille, you must be out of your mind to imagine that. And I would definitely have to be out of my mind to cheat on you. I would never… I mean, all of this chicanery is to keep us together.”

“I know. I trust you. I shouldn’t have teased you. It’s just that we’re so close to having it all work out.” Camille kissed Richard and said, “We should get some sleep. I expect the Commissioner will call you early tomorrow.”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard woke around 4 AM. It was still dark, but he knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep. He slipped out of bed and put on the robe Camille had bought him so that he wouldn’t keep putting his pajamas on when he got out of bed. He shook his head. Not long after he arrived on Saint Marie, Camille had told him he should sleep naked. As with so many other things, she’d been right.

He was halfway across the room when Camille stirred and mumbled, “Richard?”

“Shh, go back to sleep.”

“Why are you awake so early?”

“Time zones. My body clock is somewhere over the Mid-Atlantic Ridge.”

“Oh.” Camille yawned, rolled onto her side, and went back to sleep. 

Richard picked up his mobile and went out to the veranda. He sent a text to his parents to let them know he’d arrived home safely. After he sent it, he realized he’d said _home,_ not _Saint Marie._ He looked inside the house and could just barely see the sleeping form in his bed. Please God, he thought, let this become _home._

-o-o-o-o-

Camille woke to the smell of coffee as Richard set down the cup on the bedside table. “Mmm, smells good. But I should be taking care of you. You’re the one who’s tired from traveling.”

“It’s all right. I’ve been awake for a while anyway. And so has a certain someone. Look.” Richard held out his mobile. A text from the Commissioner read: _Please see me this morning to discuss your future on Saint Marie. Government House, 10 AM?_

“That looks good,” said Camille. “Don’t you love the way he uses the question mark, as if he’s asking if ten is okay with you. We know it means _BE THERE!"_

“At least it’s a set time and at Government House. I was a bit concerned he would ambush me on the way to the station.”

-o-o-o-o-

“Good morning, Inspector.”

“Good morning, Sir.” Richard tried to relax. Commissioner Patterson seemed very hearty this morning. Was that a good sign? Patterson gestured toward a chair, so Richard sat down.

“How was your trip to London? Did they lose your luggage?”

“No lost luggage, it was a miracle! I had a good visit with my parents and spent some time in London.” Richard waited to see if there would be a reaction to the mention of London.

“Yes, I gather you visited the Met.”

Well, of course he would know that, but Richard feigned surprise. “Oh, did they call you?”

“Yes. It seems you’re the object of a bit of a tug of war. They think you’d be more useful in London, and I would prefer to keep you here. I’ll admit that they can offer more opportunity for advancement. But I’m hoping that other inducements will make you want to stay here?”

Since salary was tied to rank, Richard didn’t know what the man meant. “Inducements, sir?”

“I believe Camille would prefer to stay here, so that could be the tipping point in my favor.”

“Camille?”

Patterson sighed, “Inspector, do you think I didn’t know? There is a concept called… ah, I believe it’s called an open secret? Something everybody knows but nobody talks about. You and Sergeant Bordey have shown that you can balance a personal relationship with your work relationship. In fact, I’ve heard less gossip lately about arguments and friction. Everything at the station seems to be working well.”

Richard stared at his boss. How DID the man know so much about what goes on? Did he have spies or superpowers?

“So,” Patterson continued, “The issue is, if you stay will a relationship with Camille be a problem for either of you professionally. Is that it?”

“Yes, sir, it is.”

“Ah, well, as long as I don’t hear stories about you sneaking off to the cells,” Patterson smiled when he saw Richard shudder at the thought. “Then I see no problem. But tell me, what are your intentions? Sorry to sound fatherly, but I do care very much about her happiness.”

“So do I. My intentions depend on my situation. If I go back to London, Camille will go with me. And then it’s up to her to decide whether she can stay there long term. If I stay here as a permanent assignment, then I intend to ask Camille for a permanent relationship as well.”

“Well, then, I shall negotiate with the Met and see what can be arranged.”

“Thank you, sir.”

-o-o-o-o-

Dwayne and Fidel knew that something was going on. Camille was fidgety and could not concentrate on anything. Fortunately, it was a slow day, so her inattention wasn’t a problem. Her mobile buzzed, and they could see her try to stifle a grin. 

Dwayne stood and stretched, “Camille, I think I’ll do a walk through the market, see what’s going on down there. Call me if something happens.”

“Good idea,” she answered. “Fidel, if you want a break, I’ll stay here by the phone.”

As they walked down the steps, Fidel said, “What do you think is going on?”

“I don’t know, but it must have to do with the Chief’s trip to London.”

“Do you think he’s getting a transfer back to London? And maybe Camille’s going with him? She did buy that London book.”

“Nah,” said Dwayne. “I think she’s just planning to go with him the next time he goes. If he was leaving, she’d be pissed off. But she acts like she’s waiting for good news, not bad.”

“And that would be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe permission from the Commissioner to go public with their relationship? I mean, we all know. We just pretend we don’t.”

-o-o-o-o-

Camille launched herself at Richard the moment he stepped into the station. After an enthusiastic greeting, Richard asked, “Where are the boys?”

“Patrolling the market. So, what did he say? Your text just said it looks good. What does that mean?”

“He’s going to talk to the Met, so I think we’re going to get everything we want. He already knew about us. He says everyone knows, they just don’t talk about it.”

“All that sneaking around for nothing.”

“No, it was worth the trouble. He said we’ve proved that we can balance a work partnership and a private partnership. So now we have to wait to see if the Met lets me stay here. I should contact HR and tell them I want to stay here. Even though everyone knows about us, I think we should put off saying anything until the Met signs off on this.”

Richard sent a brief email. Then leaned back in his chair. He said to Camille, “Do you know, in all my years of police work, this is the first time two places want me. I mean, actually WANT me. I have no illusions about Croyden. You met Anderson, so you know what it was like. They put up with me because I was sent there. Hell, YOU put up with me only because I was sent here.”

“At first, yes, we worked with you because we had to,” Camille replied. “But we’re not like Anderson and his cronies. We looked past the annoying behaviors. We began to realize that you weren’t truly unfriendly, you just didn’t know how to _be_ friendly.”

“So you taught me how to be a friend. You made me a better person. And a better detective.”

“I don’t know if we made you a better detective. You always were good at it. Sometimes I listen to you and wonder how you figure things out. You are the smartest person I’ve ever met. And you’ve made us smarter.”

“I think you’ve taught me far more than I could ever teach you. That’s why when Patterson complimented me that night, I had to share the praise. I hope it works out for me to stay here. Mainly for us to be together. But also because, as much as London may want me, they might be disappointed. I don’t think I’d be as good at my job without this team. So let’s hope the Commissioner can work something out with the Met.”

“You know that I meant it when I said I will go with you if they make you go back to London.”

“I hate to ask that of you. This is your home. And I want it to be mine, too.”

“Either way, we’ll be together. And since everyone already knows we’re together,” Camille smiled as she walked over to Richard and sat in his lap.

“No. Don’t get us in trouble before we’re official.”

“Reeeshard,” she whined.

“One kiss, and then you go back to your desk.”

“Okay,” Camille grinned mischievously. “But it might be a really long kiss.”

Outside the station, Fidel and Dwayne heard the squeak of dangerously overloaded springs of a desk chair. 

“Hey, Fidel,” said Dwayne a little too loudly. “Look at that sailboat just coming in. That’s a beauty.”

“Gotta be worth a fortune,” Fidel commented in a clear voice. They listened for another squeak and then the scuffle of feet. Fidel nodded, and they walked into the station, where they found Richard checking his email and Camille pouring a mug of coffee.

“Chief, you’re back!” said Dwayne.

“Yes. Just a routine meeting with the Commissioner. Anything happening at the market?”

And the day went on as usual. Or so it looked. Fidel and Dwayne were itching to ask what was going on, but didn’t say anything. Camille was itching to tell them. And Richard spent the afternoon waiting for an email or phone call that would determine his future.


	10. Paradise

A shadow blocked the sunlight pouring in through the doorway to the station. 

“Sir!” Richard jumped to his feet, wondering if Commissioner Patterson timed his arrival to get this dramatic effect.

“Good afternoon, team,” Patterson nodded to the others as they rose from their chairs. He glanced around the room and noticed that the whiteboard was empty. “It appears to be a slow day.”

“Yes, sir, it is.” Camille smiled nervously. 

“Well, then, we have time for a chat. Sit, sit,” Patterson gestured at the team members and pulled out a chair from the worktable. He took his time sitting, leaning against the back of the chair, and crossing his legs. Richard estimated the time to be something on the order of a century. At least, that’s how it felt to him.

Camille worked hard to sit still and not tap her foot. Why couldn’t the man just say what he came to say?

“As you all know, Inspector Poole is here on an extension of a temporary assignment. From time to time, the Met like to look at personnel and see if people might be put to better use in different places.”

Although the Commissioner was speaking, Richard could see that all eyes were on him. Camille had turned to face Richard and surreptitiously placed her hand over her heart. This reminder of her love calmed him and gave him the courage he needed to speak.

“And are they looking at me, sir?”

“They were. Your impressive clearance rate has not gone unnoticed. But I recalled what you said a while back at La Kaz. You said your record is the result of teamwork, not just you alone. I made a point of telling the Met about that. I also pointed out that if you left, Saint Marie would not be the same. This team, good as they are, work best with you as their leader. And if they are not as effective without you, we might see an increase in crime here on Saint Marie. I commented that the Ministry of Tourism might be disappointed to learn that the Met instigated a change that harmed the reputation of one of Britain’s colonies.”

Patterson beamed at Richard and smiled, “No minor bureaucrat wants to antagonize an entire ministry.”

Camille grinned at Richard. Richard smiled at Patterson. Damn, but the man was good at getting what he wanted. 

“So, sir does that mean—” BEEP! The fax machine came to life.

“I told them to fax the papers to the station.” Patterson nodded. Fidel rose and took the papers from the fax machine. He handed the papers to Richard, who scanned them and grinned.

“It’s official,” he said as he rose from his chair. “I’m staying.”

“Richard!” Camille ran to him and hugged him.

“Oh, thank goodness!” said Fidel.

“That’s what I want to hear! We need to celebrate!” said Dwayne.

“Congratulations, Inspector,” said Patterson, rising to shake Richard’s hand. “And since it’s a slow afternoon, as your superior I am ordering you all to close up shop and join me at La Kaz for a toast to the best team in the Caribbean. No, the best team anywhere in the world.”

“Thank you, sir. Camille and I will join in you a few minutes,” said Richard. Seeing Patterson’s raised eyebrows and glance toward the cells, Richard stammered. “We just, um, that is, somebody needs to lock up. So we’ll take care of that.”

“Don’t be too long about it,” Patterson smiled and followed Dwayne and Fidel down the steps.

“We did it!” Camille squealed, hugging Richard again. 

He kissed her and then said, “We really did.”

“What was that significant look the Commissioner gave you just now?”

“A reminder not to go sneaking off to the cells.”

“Ooh, that could be fun.”

“No. That was his metaphor for behaving ourselves. He said he had no problem with our personal relationship as long as he didn’t hear we were sneaking off to the cells. Those were his exact words.”

“Hmm, we could sneak back after the celebration.”

“Certainly not! It’s bad enough that the woman I intend to marry has spent time in those cells as a murder suspect.”

“The woman you intend to marry? Who’s that?” Camille stood hands on hips, trying to look cross, but failing miserably.

“You, of course,” Richard laughed. Then he became serious and said, “If you’ll have me. I love you, Camille. Will you marry me?”

“YES!” When they broke for air, she said, “Do we have time for, you know, a quick visit to the cells?”

“No. Let’s lock up and go to La Kaz. Don’t you want to announce our engagement?”

“Yes. But be warned, Richard. I intend to get you tipsy and drag you off to the cells later.”

“You’re incorrigible!”

“Guilty as charged. Ooh, if I’m guilty you could handcuff me and—”

“Camille!” Richard snap-pointed toward the door. “No cells. Let’s go.”

“Ohh, okay.”

They paused at the door and Richard looked back at the station. “The day the Commissioner told me I’d been transferred here he said ‘Welcome to Paradise.’ Remember?”

“Oh, yes. The look on your face was priceless.”

“It wasn’t good news at the time. But now I’m looking forward to Life in Paradise.”


End file.
